


The Slow Ones (Markiplier X Zombie!Reader)

by iamRemedy



Category: markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Mark is awesome, Minor Character Death, POV First Person, Reader is a zombie, There was too much fluff, This is starting to get a little more violent, We're upping the ante, it had to happen, zombie apocalypse AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:12:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamRemedy/pseuds/iamRemedy
Summary: In which you're a zombie and want to eat Mark's face off!...In a good way . . .?





	1. We Met At A Post-Apocalypse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you're a zombie, and want to eat Mark's face off!  
> ...  
> In a good way. . .?

**I was dead.**

 

Well,  _ un _ dead, anyways. There’s not much of a difference, though.

 

I was in my early stages of the Changing-- pale skin, milky eyes, messy (Hair Color) hair that looked like it itself had been through hell and back. I was fairly un-ugly for a . . . ‘zombie’, I think it’s called? Yeah, sure, my skin was ever-so-slowly decaying by the day-- and I’d freak out whenever I’d happen upon a mirror --but I wasn’t  _ that _ unattractive. Better than all those other creepos, with their jaws literally sagging to the floor.

 

I’d already gone through the Forgetting part of the whole ‘Zombie Transformation’ process. I had forgotten my name, life, all that jazz. I didn’t really care, though. How could I? I didn’t even remember that I’d forgotten anything in the first place.

 

Then there was SafeHaven. It was this big building past a bigger wall that we were, for some reason, too dumb to climb over. It served as a bit of a-- well, a safe haven for humans. They were terrified us. However, we weren’t bad. We were just ‘living our lives’.

 

But when someone shoots your friend’s head off with a double-barrel shotgun, I guarantee you’re gonna fight back.

 

**_Bang!_ **

 

I staggered backwards, knocking one of my undead friends over. She let out a groan and stumbled back to her feet, bumping into me. But my dead eyes were trained on the limp body that was missing its head. I slowly looked up again, my gaze landing upon a live man that seemed to be in his late twenties (though, I wasn’t very worried about that at the time) with curly brown hair, a bloody grey T-shirt, a bandage on his face, and a shotgun. He was now aiming the barrel at a zombie beside me. With another  **_bang!_ ** , they were dead.

 

I looked behind myself at the horde. There was a fairly large group of the undead; it was one that I traveled with a majority of the time. Seeing two of my best friends dead was rather heartbreaking, whether or not my heart even could beat. 

 

I then faced the man once more, and noticed four more humans with him. One was a shorter male with fear evident in his expression, rather well-kept, faded-blue hair for a post-apocalypse, and a shovel. There were also two females, one with blonde hair and a chainsaw, the other with dark-brown hair and glasses and a hatchet. The last of the group was another man, but he . . . I could just not take my eyes off of him.

 

Now, zombies having feelings? Not very common. They’re, quite frankly, too dumb to process them. So, when my face got uncharacteristically warm at the sight of the 5’10 man with messy dark hair, deep-brown eyes, some unkempt scruff on his chiseled face, and an olive-green vest covering a wrinkled white shirt with various bloodstains on it, I became confused. Which was also weird, because confusion is a feeling, and  **ZOMBIES AREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO FEEL** .

 

But, I mean--

 

It’s not like I could just--

 

_ Stop feeling. _

 

**_Bang!_ **

 

I grimaced as another Slow One fell to the ground, their head gone. So, uh, not usually one to praise the enemy, but-- this guy, with the shotgun, had great aim.

 

“There’s too many of them!” the blonde shouted, sawing off-- was that the one that I’d deemed Jerry? --a zombie’s head. (I think that was Jerry. What a dingus. She killed Jerry.) 

 

And then the next thing happened.

 

You know how the living dead are dumb? Well, they can’t exactly carry weapons (unless you live in Resident Evil, but let’s be honest here). So, our only defense was to, uh . . . .

 

_ Bite. _

 

So, that’s what that one zombie that the blonde female was trying to kill did. They clamped their dirty teeth down on her exposed neck and went to town. It was  _ not  _ a pretty sight.

 

“AMY!” The man who’d practically had me mesmerized cried out, reaching out for her.

 

The curly-haired one placed a hand on his shoulder and tugged him backwards, yelling, “Mark! It’s too late! We have to go! NOW!”

 

The brunette female sobbed. The youngest male of the three, the one with the blue-ish hair, whapped the zombie who’d killed the human named Amy on the head, tears in his hazel eyes.

 

Hazel. I’d forgotten what life looked like. Humans rarely came here. When they did, though, they never left with the same head count.

 

“Right! Yeah, we have to go, guys!” Mark was his name.  _ Mark.  _ “Ethan’s apartment isn’t too far from here. We can make it before nightfall if we hurry.”

 

I watched them. The curly-haired one looked me dead in the eye, a menacing glint in his own, and raised his shotgun . . . .

 

He reloaded it . . . .

 

Then, he--

 

“Tyler.” Mark grabbed him by the arm. “Come on, it’s not worth it.”

 

‘Tyler’ huffed and lowered his weapon, sparing me one last glance before the small group ran off.

 

When they were far from sight, that’s when Amy rose again, a grey complexion already taking over her skin. 


	2. Out With A Bang

The next day came after a while. I’m not sure how long, exactly, but it doesn’t really matter. Unless you like it when people are weirdly specific, or something. If that’s the case, then I’m sorry. I can’t give you what you want.

 

I was still traveling in my group. I had nothing else to do. I was ‘dead’, after all.

 

It was odd-- how small my slow little posse had become. But, people die. And that’s just something I’ll have to live with.

 

Sort of.

 

The leader of the undead group-- she didn’t have a name, but I knew she was female --somehow managed to bring us to an apartment complex. Mayhaps she had smelled the humans from before. This was where they had said they were going, right?

 

Thus, we lumbered towards the building, stopping at the staircase.

 

Well, then.

 

Someone had broken them down. No zombie would be getting up them.

 

Ever.

 

So, everyone started grumbling and moaning on about the crappiness of our little predicament. They’d killed our friends; we wanted to find out why. Why wouldn’t they let us in?

 

Curly (I think his name was actually Tyler, but I never really liked him for obvious reasons) finally came out with his double-barrel shotgun, and he started picking off the slowest zombies in our group.

 

What a douche.

 

His friends, including the man who’d caught my eye (not literally; I’m not that far gone), walked out behind him. _My_ friends, they found another way up. Don’t ask how, because I don’t even know.

 

Tyler was shooting the brains of the grounded zombies out, while the other three were working on the ones climbing up to their floor.

 

My eyes were on _him. Mark._

 

Mark was swift. He gutted a zombie, then jerked backwards, stabbing his machete into another that had been sneaking up behind him.

 

Before I knew it, all my friends were dead. It was just me, standing there, gazing up at him with an emotion-- wonder. They all looked at one other, then Mark’s eyes met mine. He seemed scared, startled, at first. But, then, he was . . . entranced, almost. “It’s . . . not moving,” he said.

 

Tyler looked at me, and the others did too. Remembrance flashed in his eyes. Like before, he raised his double-barrel shotgun, then he aimed it right at my head. The perfect shot. It would kill me instantly.

 

But he didn’t pull the trigger.

 

Mark stopped him. “W-Wait,” he said.

 

Tyler gave him a skeptical look. “What?”

 

“L-Let me . . . let me see something,” Mark murmured, walking past his friends.

 

“Mark! What are you doing?!” the brunette female screamed.

 

“No, man, you’re gonna get yourself killed!” Blue cried.

 

“Just trust me!” Mark exclaimed, hopping down to the ground, landing easily on his sneakered feet. _Oh, those are nice shoes . . ._

 

“Mark, if something happens . . .” Tyler said, his voice trailing off.

 

“Just trust me,” Mark repeated himself, quieter this time as he approached me.

 

I stood still, my milky, faded-(Eye Color) eyes wide as he took cautious steps towards me.

 

“What are you thinking!?” Blue shouted, and Mark quickly shushed him.

 

“Maybe it’s . . . harmless,” Mark muttered, observing me from a safe distance. He seemed to almost trust me, but I could still see the machete strapped to his belt. “I mean . . . she’s not moving.”

 

_Is this not normal?_

 

Mark continued on, stopping about two feet away from me. He watched me for a moment, a curious look in his chocolate-brown eyes. As he did this, something compelled me to look up. And I was sure glad that I did, because Tyler had his shotgun ready to shoot Mark and I.

 

Then--

 

**_Bang!_ **


	3. Fairly Un-Ugly For A Zombie

**_Bang!_ **

 

Without thinking twice-- or once, even, since I was literally brain dead --I dove forward and tackled Mark out of the way. He, thinking I was trying to attack him, reached for his machete, but wasn’t able to react as we both fell to the ground, out of sight.

 

“ _Mark!_ ” the brunette cried. “Oh my god-- I think it got him! Tyler!”

 

“I-- I don’t know! We gotta go!” Tyler exclaimed, for another horde was headed in their direction, having heard the multiple gunshots from then and earlier on.

 

“But, Mark--” Blue started.

 

“It got ‘im, Ethan,” Tyler said, and leapt down. When his feet touched the ground, I pulled Mark further into the dark so none of them could see us. “We . . . We have to keep moving.”

 

“He’s your friend,” Blue said, hopping down and helping the female after him. “What if he’s still alive?”

 

Tyler stiffened and turned toward the younger male. “You didn’t seem to care about Amy when that other undead freak got her!” he yelled.

 

Blue grimaced, taking a step back in surprise. “Well, at least I didn’t try to kill her!” he replied with much exasperation.

 

“Guys, please! I know we’re all on edge, but we have to leave before that horde comes!” the female said. “It’s what Mark and Amy would’ve done. And I know they were both our friends, but . . . We have to go.”

 

Tyler sighed, “Kathryn’s right” and the trio was off.

 

Mark went to stand. “Guys, w--” he started to say, but I quickly pulled him back down and covered his mouth, earning a distasteful look from him.

 

When his friends were at a far enough distance, and no sound but Mark’s breathing could be heard, I relaxed.

 

Mark quickly jumped up, machete in hand and pointed at me. “W-What’s your deal?” he asked, then paused to seemingly think of something. “Did you . . . Did you save me before? Was Tyler really gonna shoot me?”

 

I stood, and he stumbled backwards, making me cringe a little sadly.  _What does he expect from me? I can’t exactly speak._

 

“Do you have a name?” he inquired.

 

I let out a low groan in response, limply shrugging my shoulders.

 

Mark let out a breath, tucking his machete back into place. “Right. You’re a zombie.” I stood silent, watching him as he stared, crestfallen, at the dirt beneath his bloody sneakers. He then glanced up at me. “Why aren’t you like . . .  _them_?”

 

I tilted my head to the side, a sign that his question confused me.

 

He smiled slightly, and I could’ve sworn I felt my heart flutter in my chest, even if for just a vast moment. “I mean, you didn’t kill me. You’re letting me live, and . . . Th-Thank you.”

 

I stepped toward him, and he backed away again, hand hovering over the handle of his weapon of choice. “B-But you’re still freakin’ creepy,” he stuttered. I went back to my former spot to show that I understood, and he let out a quick sigh. He glanced behind himself, then back at me. “I need to report Tyler for, uh, trying to kill me and all. But, uh . . . I don’t remember where SafeHaven is,” he said. “You . . . know what that is, right?”

 

I shrugged my shoulders in response, hoping he’d take it as a  _yes_. I hadn’t lived in SafeHaven during my life, but I did know how to get there. One of my main undead friends had shown me the way, and we made a mental pact not to show any of the Eaters where it was.

 

Eaters are the type of undead that have no moral, and eat humans just for the heck of it. The virus was spread to their entire body, and it took them over. They didn’t know what they were doing; they thought it was the only thing that would keep them ‘alive’. Even the dead don’t want to die.

 

Mark blinked. “Is that a ‘yes’?”

 

I closed my eyes and huffed.  _This guy; I swear . . ._

 

“D-Do you know where it is?” he asked, to which I shrugged again. “I-I need you to take me there.”

 

My eyes widened, and another emotion took over-- panic. I vigorously shook my head, surprised that it didn’t fall off.

 

Mark frowned. “Why not?”

 

I vaguely lifted my arm with all my strength and pointed off into the distance. He followed where I was gesturing to, and his eyes landed on a large horde of the undead skulking around. “Oh. Right.” He faced me again. “Well, there has to be a way. I just want my mom to know I’m alive. You know what a mom is, right?”

 

I looked down at my tattered sneakers--  _Geez. Nevermind then._  --and back up at him sadly. He seemed to get the jist, and he changed the subject. “Well, I . . . don’t know what to do, then.”

 

I glanced around for a moment, my gaze flickering amongst each of the fallen undead.  _Maybe . . ._

 

I grabbed Mark’s hand-- which was really warm, and gave me a fuzzy feeling in my janky bones --and pulled him along, stopping in front of the first corpse and kneeling down.

 

Mark grimaced. “Uh, what-- what are you doing?”

 

I even cringed myself as I wiped my fingers against the corpse’s cheek, taking off some of the grime and blood and rubbing it all over Mark’s face.

 

He slapped my hand away, eyes wide. “No! Why are you doing the thing that you’re doing!?” he exclaimed, trying to reach up and smudge it all away. I grabbed his hand again, the warmth welcoming to me, and managed to shake my head.

 

I looked into his eyes.  _Please just trust me._

 

Mark’s expression faltered to a neutral one. “Wait . . . I think I saw this in a video game once,” he mumbled. “If you wipe all the gross zombie juice on my face, then I’ll smell like them, and they won’t be able to find me!”

 

I closed my eyes. Relief. Another emotion. This day was getting really weird.

 

“So, that means you’ll take me to SafeHaven?”

 

I nodded as well as I could. Might as well try, right?

 

“Great! Let’s go then!”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Whyyyyy?”

 

I pointed at the setting sun, and he got the idea.

 

“So . . . we’re gonna stay here for the night?”

 

I nodded again and thought:  _I wonder if there’s food around here somewhere. Humans get hungry, right?_

 

“How about we go inside then?”

 

I paused. ‘ _We’? Does he really trust me? Or is he gonna kill me? I don’t need sleep, but maybe he thinks that I do._

 

I decided to lightly nod in response. I . . . I trusted him.

 

Mark smiled that same charming smile, and the feeling from before came back, only stronger. “Then we’ll head out in the morning. Great idea . . . you,” he said. He climbed back up to the second floor and, once he was there, helped me up as well. It was an odd moment. When he politely brought me up to my feet, I stumbled a bit (because zombies have a bit of a problem staying steady) and fell into his chest. And when I looked up at him, he said, “Uh, not to be weird or anything, but . . . you are fairly un-ugly for a zombie.”

 

I laughed inside my mind, I think. Since I couldn’t do the real thing, I would imagine that I did it inside my mind.

\-----


	4. Lullaby For The Broken Ones

Mark lead me into one of the apartments and closed the door, then immediately began searching for food. That was one problem solved, I suppose.

 

He checked the fridge, and mumbled, “Ethan, you better have food left in here . . .” He pulled out a blue bowl full of stale, month-old fishsticks. “Why are these here again?”

 

As he continued his scavenger hunt, I sluggishly checked the cabinets, then grabbed a can of beans. Placing it on the counter, I made sure to be loud about it in order to grab his attention.

 

“Oh, nice! Beans,” Mark beamed, walking towards me and grabbing the aforementioned food. “Too bad none of the appliances work. Looks like I’ll be eating these cold.” He managed to open the can, then rummaged around the drawers for a spoon before finally coming across them. We stood in silence as he ate.

 

Now finished, he addressed me. “You . . . promise not to eat me while I’m sleeping, right?”

 

I went for a  _really?_ face, but I’m not sure if I was ever able to actually make it. Thus, I simply gave him a nod, and he happily returned it.

 

“Good,” Mark said, lying down on the sofa with a yawn. “And if zombies come breaking down our door, please wake me. Or hide my body. I dunno-- do something, yeah?”

 

I nodded again, sitting down on a stool by the counter. Then something caught my eye. I think it was a snowglobe. I vaguely remembered it being called that. I carefully picked it up and flipped it over, twisting the notch on the bottom, and I let the music play as I set it back down.

 

Mark gazed at me from the sofa. “I remember that,” he said dreamily. “Feels like so long ago. That was from ‘Christmas Can Wait’. Or was it ‘Christmas  _Can’t_ Wait’ . . . ? I don’t know. It just-- it brings back memories.” His smile dropped like a sour note. “I wish things could be like that again . . .”

 

The music stopped.

 

I looked at the snowglobe, wondering if I should make the music play again. I didn’t want Mark to be sad, but I had no idea what to do. So I stared at it for a moment, as if it held the secrets of the universe, or maybe my own memories lost in the fog of whatever this world had become. Maybe it’d make everything okay. I’d be alive again, Tyler wouldn’t be such a douche nozzle, and Mark would be living his life happily. Everything would be as it should.

 

But then I looked up again, at the ravaged cabinets that someone had hurriedly grabbed rations from, and I realized that nothing was okay. Which was a pretty deep realization for a zombie, if I don’t say so myself.

 

 _Me too_ , I thought, as if Mark could, by some miracle, read my mind. I knew he couldn’t, but a girl can hope, right? Even if she  _is_ undead . . .

 

“Sorry if I made it depressing,” Mark tiredly said after a few moments. “I guess I just miss it all, you know? But I’d like to think we can still find light in this effed-up world.”

 

I looked at him, and he closed his eyes.

 

“Or maybe that’s just me,” he mumbled. “And maybe Markimoo needs some sleep. Eh . . . ‘Night, whatever-your-name-is . . .”

 

I used every fiber of my being to smile. It may have been ugly, but no one was watching.

 

_Good night, Mark . . . ._

 

**\-----**

****Author's Note****

**I know it's a little short, but I just loved this chapter too much.**

**Anyways, have a good one~!**

**-Remedy**


	5. I Think I Know A Guy

I sat awake the whole night. I stared at the snowglobe for a while, thinking, because I figured it’d be weird if I watched Mark sleep. I would usually just be roaming around at this time, so sitting still and waiting was a new experience for me.

 

Of course, I glanced at him once in a while. Maybe just to make sure he was still alive and breathing, or that a zombie hadn’t snuck in while I was looking away. But it was quiet. The only sound was his intake and outtake of breath, and it had a sort of soothing effect on the atmosphere.

 

When the first light of dawn began peeking through the curtains, Mark sat up and stretched his limbs with an audible yawn. He then faced me with a slightly confused look. He scratched his head and sat still for a moment, a tired glaze in his eyes.

 

I grabbed a can of beans from off the counter and a spoon, then I made my way across the room.

 

Mark jumped up, startled, but then noticed the food. I held it out to him. “Oh, thanks,” he said, accepting it from me. He opened the can with the handle of the spoon, looking around the room as he started eating. After he swallowed his first bite, he asked, “Did . . . anything happen while I was out?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Okay. Good,” Mark said.  He finished up his can of beans, then threw it into the trash can from his seat. “Kobe!” He looked at me again as he stood. “All right. We ready to head out?”

 

I nodded, and he smiled slightly. “Great. Let’s get going then!” he beamed, and the two of us walked out the door. I watched as he hopped down to the ground then gazed up at me. “Come on! I’ll catch you!” he shouted.

 

I was nervous at first, but decided to just go for it, and jumped down. As he said he would, he caught me, then helped me steady myself before giving another bright smile. “You good?”

 

I shrugged, and he took that as a  _meh_.

 

“Which direction?” he asked. I started walking without an answer (because, again, I couldn’t speak), and he followed close behind me.

 

We traveled north for hours. Mark glanced at the undead roaming around us, a worried look on his face. I grabbed his hand to try and comfort him, but it seemed to only make him more antsy, so I let go.

 

Night fell, and Mark started getting tired. He tried to stifle a yawn, in hopes to keep going, but I noticed it and stopped walking.

 

He quickly skid to a stop to keep from bumping into me. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

 

I looked at him. He needed to rest.

 

Mark frowned. “Are you suggesting we stop for now?”

 

I nodded.

 

“No,” he said stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. “We’ve gotta be close, right? We’ll get there by morning.”

 

I sighed inwardly. Somehow, I knew he wouldn’t agree to take a break. So, we kept on.

 

As we walked, Mark skeptically looked around, then took out a can of beans from the backpack he’d been carrying. He silently opened it, eating with a plastic spoon he’d grabbed from somewhere. “How close are we?” he asked. “If we’re close, blink once. If we’re halfway there, blink twice. And if we’re far away, blink three times.”

 

I gave him an incredulous look.

 

Mark sighed, “Can you even blink?”

 

 _We’re almost there_ , I thought, looking straight ahead once more.  _Then we can both go on our ways, like we’d never met in the first place._ I stopped walking.  _Wait . . . What happens once we get there?_ I faced Mark, fearful.  _He’s gonna kill me._

 

Mark paused. “Are you okay?”

 

I stepped away from him.  _I want to help him, but . . ._  I shook my head, and we continued our trek towards SafeHaven.

 

We arrived at dawn.

 

A big smile spread across Mark’s face, despite his tired state. “Yes! We made it! This is great, I--” He stopped for a moment, meeting my gaze. “Oh, wait. They’ll kill you if they see you.”

 

 _No dip,_  I thought.

 

“I can sneak you in,” Mark said. “You’re the only nonlethal zombie I know, so there has to be something special about you.

But they won’t believe me, especially if Tyler’s gotten into their minds.”

 

We stood still, thinking. Brainstorming.

 

Then--

 

Mark’s eyes lit up. “I know someone who can help.”

  
 

\-----


	6. Elementary, My Dear Markiplier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, I forgot to post this chapter ':D

“ _Kathryn!_ ” Mark whisper-yelled, throwing a rock up at someone’s window. “Hey! Kathryn! Are you there!?”

 

I looked around worriedly at the humans that passed us, pulling the hood of my jacket further up to hide my face better. Mark had somehow managed to sneak me past the guards, saying that I was a survivor he’d found, and that I needed immediate care from a female named Kathryn, who apparently was a medic.

 

“What do you want?!” the brunette I recognized from Mark’s group shouted as she opened her window, obviously frustrated over Mark bothering her. But her angry expression immediately fell when she saw who it was. “Mark? I thought you . . . Come in! Come in!”

 

“Come on. She’ll help us,” Mark whispered to me, gently tugging on my arm as he led me to the house’s front door.

 

Kathryn opened up the door and let us in, giving Mark a quick hug before closing it behind her. “How’d you survive? I thought that the zo-- who’s that?” She looked at me, her eyes wide. “Is that . . . ?”

 

“It’s okay,” Mark quickly said as Kathryn opened her mouth to scream. “She’s good. Harmless.”

 

“She?” Kathryn said, facing Mark again. “It’s a girl?”

 

“Yeah,” Mark said, looking at me. “Isn’t . . . Isn’t that obvious?”

 

“Uh . . .” Kathryn quickly shook her head, as if to clear it. “What do you need me for?”

 

“Can you make her look a bit more . . . human?”

 

Kathryn sighed, “You’re lucky I’m your friend, Mark. No one else would help you.” She hesitantly grabbed my arm, leading me upstairs. “F-Follow me.”

 

“So, uh . . . what’d Tyler tell the authorities?” Mark asked as I was put into a seat in front of a mirror (though, I was faced away from it).

 

“That you were bitten because you thought a zombie didn’t want to kill you,” Kathryn stated blunty, digging around some drawers in the vanity behind me. “But, you’re obviously still alive, which means . . .” She spared me a glance as she placed a few cosmetic supplies on the desk. “You were right.”

 

“Tyler tried to shoot me,” Mark said, “and she saved me.”

 

“Is that what happened?” Kathryn mumbled. “From my and Ethan’s point of view, it looked like she tackled you, and then . . .”

 

“Oh, yeah. How’s Ethan doing?” Mark wondered, fidgeting with a picture hanging on the wall, accidentally messing it up. His eyes widened, and he awkwardly coughed into his fist as he slowly stepped away from it.

 

“Well, he thinks you died, Mark,” Kathryn said sadly, opening up a case of foundation. “After you finish . . . whatever the heck you’re doing, you should go see him.”

 

“Good idea.”

 

“Mark, can you grab me two rags and a bowl of water from the bathroom?” Kathryn asked.

 

“Yes!” Mark beamed, running off. A moment later, he returned with the requested objects and placed them on the desk. “Here ya go.”

 

“Thank you,” Kathryn hummed. She dampened one rag in the bowl of water, then went to work at cleaning blood off my face, arms, and hands. She then used the other to dry me off, and she put a few layers of foundation on my face, spreading it onto my neck. “I think some of, er, Amy’s old clothes are in the closet. Can you get me a shirt and pants?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Mark said a little glumly, most likely thinking of his bitten friend, and walked off towards the closet. He came back with a black-and-grey-striped long-sleeved shirt and some dark-blue jeans and handed them to Kathryn.

 

“Thanks,” Kathryn said, reaching under her desk for a pair of scissors. She then took the hoodie off of me, using the scissors to cut off the faded blue shirt I had been wearing beneath it. When Mark realized what she was doing, he quickly looked away, a blush forming on his cheeks. “Here, uh, can you raise your arms?” Kathryn said to me.

 

I did as she asked, with much effort, and allowed her to put the long-sleeved shirt on me.

 

“Okay, good,” she said, adding more foundation to any exposed skin, working to cover up any scars and add color to it. “Mark, you can look now.”

 

“Uh, n-no, I-I’ll wait,” Mark stammered, shifting on his feet.

 

“Whatever you say,” Kathryn mumbled. “I think the jeans she has on now will be good enough. What exactly are you going for here? Does she need a whole lot of make-up, or . . . ?”

 

“I don’t know. What do you think she needs?”

 

“Definitely some eye contacts,” Kathryn said, digging through her pile before coming across the item she needed. “Hm, I think (Eye Color) suits her. What do you think, Mark?”

 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Mark said.

 

“Okay. Hold still,” Kathryn told me, and I did so as she put a contact in each of my eyes. She then took a step back and squinted, nodding her head. “Yes. Good. Okay.” She then covered up the bags beneath my eyes with some firming foundation before looking over me again. “Some eye shadow might be nice,” she said, mostly to herself. She added the aforementioned cosmetic, a smile spreading across her face. “Wowzers. Mark? I’m done.”

 

“Great. Now, we can--” Mark turned around to face the two of us, and his sentence cut off into silence. “Whoa.”

 

Kathryn did a few finishing touches, fixing my hair up a bit, her smile never faltering. “I think I did pretty good, if I don’t say so myself,” she beamed, hands on her hips as she turned to Mark. “Which I do.”

 

“I gotta say . . . you’re a miracle worker, Kathryn.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Kathryn said, rolling her eyes playfully. “So, what’s your plan?”

 

“I want to take her to the authorities, to show them that not all zombies are hostile,” Mark explained. “But everyone would be trying to kill her if we tried to just waltz up to the main building. That’s why I needed your help with this.”

 

“Well, I’m not going with you, if you think--”

 

“No, I don’t,” Mark cut her off. “I wouldn’t ask you to risk your life like that.”

 

Kathryn’s face fell. “Be careful, Mark. Don’t do anything stupid.”

 

“I may be dumb,” Mark said, “but I’m not stupid.”

 

“Just . . . don’t die, okay?” Kathryn muttered, looking down. “It wouldn’t be Teamiplier without you.”

 

“I . . . won’t.”

 

“Good. Now, get out there,” Kathryn said, ushering us towards the door. “I’ll catch you dinguses on the flip side.”

 

“Buh-bye!”

 

\-----


	7. Trust in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's the /actual/ update, hehe..

 

 _Click_ was the sound that indicated the door locking behind us.

 

After Katherine bid us farewell, Mark led me safely to his dorm. The room had a single bed, a bathroom, a plastic table and a wardrobe. Aside from that, the floor was wooden and sturdy, along with a low ceiling and an average-sized window at the opposite wall. 

 

It had started to rain, and the pitter-patter was enough to daze me. I found myself staring at the window, losing track of time. 

 

I realized how much I missed being able to move fast. Being able to see well, and feel warmth. Zombies are slow, and we barely have any brain left in us. Oh, how much I missed speaking.

 

The bathroom door swung open, causing me to stumble backward. "Sorry, did I startle you?" Mark asked, eyebrows raised high. 

 

_He already showered?_

 

His hair was still wet, and he was dragging is fingers through his brown locks. I know he isn't stupid enough to walk out in a just towel, but the fact that he was standing in front of me wearing a white t-shirt, open flannel, _and_ unbuckled pants made me question my theory. 

 

I looked away and angrily blushed. What was he trying to do to me? 

 

"Were you standing there the whole time?" he laughed. 

 

"Well! Zombies get easily distracted I'll have you know!" I replied sharply. 

 

He gasped and put his hands over his mouth. 

"What?" I asked, still oblivious. 

 

He stared at me in disbelief. "Okay. Listen to me. When I said that I didn't exactly expect a response—" 

 

I yelped in shock, finally realizing what I was able to do. 

 

"I-I'm talking? I-I'm... Oh my go—" 

 

"I-I know, I know! This is— it's unbelievable! H-How—?"

 

We both stuttered confused responses at each other for about two minutes, which left me laughing my heart out with a blown mind. 

 

"It feels so good- to- laugh!" I said in between breaths. 

 

Mark stopped laughing and stared at me with a smile on his face. "What?" I asked, my laughing ceased.

 

"Nothing... It's just... I've never seen you smile that big before," he whispered, his eyes shining. "Or at all, really." 

 

"Oh..." I say looking down at my feet. "Before all of this feels normal, what do you think happened? It's almost like I'm... getting some of my human abilities back..." 

 

Mark put his hand on his chin. "I don't know about that... maybe we found some weird unknown cure?" 

 

"Maybe," I replied, unsure. 

 

"Let's not get used to it. We don't know what caused this or if it will last," Mark reminded me. 

 

My heart dropped at the thought of my voice not being permanent. I've already lost it once and I don't intend on losing it again. "Right," I murmured.

 

"But there _is_ a cure," Mark stated, finishing with buckling his belt, fumbling a bit as his mind spun. "It's inside of you, I think. Or maybe Kathryn's make-up? No, that's dumb. Why would it be in make-up? We'd know by now. Maybe Felix could run some tests. He's a doctor—" 

 

I shook my head violently, no words coming out. It had become instinct. 

 

Mark looked at me. "No? Why?" 

 

"I—" I coughed into my fist, my voice having come out hoarse. "Doctors, I don't like them." 

 

"No, Felix won't hurt you. He's a friend of mine—" 

 

"So was Tyler!" I exclaimed. 

 

Mark's eyes widened before an angry look settled over his expression. "Or maybe you're just being selfish." 

 

My mouth fell open slightly. "W-What?" 

 

"You could possibly have the cure to the  _literal zombie apocalypse_  and you just wanna keep it to yourself!" 

 

"Mark, that's not—!" 

 

"Don't you trust me?!" Mark yelled, and I realized tears were welling up in his brown eyes. "Not everyone is going to treat you like shit,  _Amy_!" I could hear his breath hitch from the other side of the room before he placed a hand over his mouth, barely muffling a sob. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean. . . I didn't mean it. Pl-Please don't leave. . . Please don't leave me." 

 

"M-Mark?" 

 

He inhaled sharply, looking up at me. ". . .W-What?" 

 

I took a hesitant step forward, him watching me the entire time, then made my way towards him. I sat down beside him, managing to wrap my arms around him in what I hoped was a comforting hug. 

 

He shuddered beneath my touch, and I almost backed out, but he held onto my tight. "Y-You're just. . . really cold," he murmured. 

 

"Oh, sorry," I said, trying to pull back again.

 

Mark let out a small sob, his shoulders jolting as his grip managed to get even tighter around me. "N-No, no, please. . ." 

 

I felt. . . strange. Like this wasn't something I was supposed to witness. Had fate decided not to start the zombie apocalypse, i probably wouldn't even have met him. He would certainly still be with that girl Amy, and I'd be continuing my mundane life as (First Name) (Last Name), a— wait a minute. "Holy shit," I whispered.

 

Mark drew back, hands still on my shoulders, his eyes wide. "What?" 

 

"My name's (Your Name)," I said silently, staring back at Mark.

 

His eyes got even wider, if possible. " _What?_ " 

 

I laughed, "My name's (First Name) (Last Name)!" 

 

Mark grinned. "You remembered that just now?!" 

 

"I did!" 

 

"Holy shit, indeed." 

 

I closed my eyes with a small smile. "I'll do it, Mark." 

 

"Do what?" 

 

I placed my hands on his which were still on my shoulders, only slightly saddened when he shivered, and looked into his eyes. "I'll go see this doctor of yours," I said. "If it'll make you happy." 

 

His grin settled into a simple smile as he took his right hand out from beneath my own and cupped my cheek. "Thank you so much," he said. "You're great." Something sparked in his beautiful brown eyes, I'm not sure what, but they flickered down to my lips and back up and before I knew it, he was leaning towards me.

 

"Um," I said, scooting backwards. "I was, uh.. wondering when you wanted to go?" 

 

Mark blinked a few times before clearing his throat and looking down at the floor. "Um, probably tomorrow," he mumbled dejectedly. His head suddenly shot up. "Fuck! We need to go see Ethan!" 

 

I jumped. "You mean the blue boy?" 

 

Mark grinned. "The bluest boy." 

 

\-----

****I'll try to make the next chapter longer than this one :)****


	8. I'm Tyler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> References? Yes.  
> Does Tyler have severe hemorrhoids? Yes.  
> Will the next chapter be longer? I sure hope so.  
> AnGsT? It wouldn't be my story without it.

According to Mark, blueberry boy's apartment was close to camp. There was silence between us as we walked there along the ground still yet from the rain yesterday, the shock from me suddenly being able to talk still wearing off. I was lost in my own thoughts.  _Amy. He called me Amy. Why does that hurt?_

 

 _"_ Hey I'm sorry for earlier. I shouldn't have yelled at you," Mark said. I blinked at him, momentarily forgetting what he was referring to before I remembered.

 

"I-It's fine," I stuttered out, attempting my best smile but it must have came off as a grimace because Mark slightly flinched.

 

"Seriously though, (Your Name). I shouldn't have yelled at you. I also didn't mean to call you Amy. I just... really miss her," Mark said, whispering the last part. I looked up to see his heart literally breaking into pieces, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.  _Amy must have meant a lot to him._

 

After a few seconds of Mark grieving over the loss of his girlfriend, I stepped forward and awkwardly wrapped my arms around him in a hug like fashion. He didn't hug back but at least he didn't recoil. We stayed like that for a few moments until I dropped my arms to my side and stepped away, leaving the broken man to his thoughts.

 

"Mark, I—"

 

My attempt to comfort him was cut off by loud footsteps. I whirled around to meet the eyes of a tall, curly haired brunette male.  _Shit. Pleasedon'treconizemepleasedon'treconizeme._ I started freaking out, tugging at Mark's shirt to get his attention. His eyes snapped up from the ground he was previously staring at, sadness instantly falling from his face.

 

"Shit. They must've seen us", Mark cursed under his breath.

 

The 'they' in question was Tyler and his two goons that trailed behind him. At the sight of them Mark's eyes burned with rage and betrayal.

 

"Not Bob and Wade. God, please not them," Mark pleaded as the trio of figures drew near. He cursed so I assumed that his fears were only confirmed.

 

"Mark Fischbach. You have been reported for treason, putting your friends in danger, and," the heavier of the three paused to look at me, "apparently kidnapping."

 

"First off, how the hell did I commit treason?!" Mark yelled, outraged at the accusations being thrown at him. "Second of all I did NOT kidnap (Your Name)!! So stop accusing me, Bob!"

 

I couldn't take it anymore. I stepped in front of Mark, ready to give this Bob a piece of my mind. _Weren't these his friends?_

 

Mark grabbed my wrist, his grip practically begging me not to do anything that I would regret. Believe me, it's not going to be me regretting my decisions. The man who I concluded was Wade through the process of elimination pushed Mark away from me. Mark just scoffed, glaring into Wade's eyes with utter rage.

 

"We're here to rightfully take you to prison. Resistance is futile and will only result in more consequences. As for how you committed treason, you trusted the enemy of our people," Wade spat. I just glared at my shoes, gritting my teeth in an effort to not let my sharp mouth slip.  _Me? The enemy? I get that I'm a zombie but I freaking saved Mark's life from Tyler._ Speaking of the person who was insistent of being the bane of my existence, his expression was blank but I could've sworn that I saw the corner of his mouth curl up into a slight smirk. God I wanted to slap the smugness off of him.

 

My attention was brought to Mark, who was currently yelling at Bob and Wade. They were attempting to restrain him, Bob on the left and Wade on the right. I gasped in horror as they dragged him and pushed him to his knees in front of Tyler. Tyler reeled his fist back before bringing it hard into Mark's face. Over and over. Mark's chocolate brown eyes became hooded, blood dripping from his face. I recalled to memory Wade's words from not too long ago.  _Resistance is futile and will only result in more consequences._  I wanted to help, to scream out for them to stop, but it was too late. Mark's body went limp, collapsing onto Tyler's feet. He softly groaned as Bob used his foot to flip him onto his back. The only sign that Mark was alive was his chest shakily rising and falling.

 

I suddenly snapped out of the frozen state that I was in, running towards Mark's nearly lifeless body where Bob and Wade were hovering. I unceremoniously yelped as strong arms wrapped around my waist to yank me back into a muscled torso. I tilted my head to see that it was Tyler. At this realisation I began to freak out, kicking my legs uselessly as he tossed me over his shoulder.

 

"Calm your tits, sweetheart," Tyler darkly chuckled, wiping the bloody hand that wasn't holding me on his shirt.  _Sweetheart? Oh HELL NO!_ I growled at him,  biting his shoulder. I was blinded with rage at the fact that he hurt precious Mark AND had the audacity to call me sweetheart in a demeaning manner.

 

I could feel something take over my mind for a split second. I stopped struggling as I realized my zombie-like behavior was trying to take control. Slightly stumbling from the force of me suddenly becoming deadweight, Tyler continued carrying me to camp. I lifted my head to see Bob and Wade behind us, dragging an unconscious and bloody Mark behind us. I had the sudden urge to hurl as I remembered the sight of Tyler beating up Mark. Sure I've seen zombies sink their teeth into the flesh of a survivor, or zombies get their heads sawn off or heads blown off by a barrage of bullets, but it was still a gruesome sight to watch.  Speaking of zombies getting their head sawed off, I miss Jerry. Even though he didn't speak, he was a cool guy.

 

As I continued further down the rabbit hole of my thought train, I grew very sleepy. Huh, that's weird. I'm never tired now that I'm undead. I only recalled faint memories of this tired feeling from my past, but before I could question it, I dozed off on the shoulder of my enemy....


End file.
